


Deja Vu

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Drug Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-12
Updated: 2004-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History is repeating itself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu

He’s only bitter because he found the drugs.

I’ll start from the beginning.

We were on the bus, we being me, Mike, Rob and Brad – Phi and Joe were off terrorising the people in the truck stop we were currently parked in. Rob was kicking Brad’s ass at the Playstation whilst Mike and I watched; well, whilst I watched because Mike had disappeared somewhere. I knew this because after a few minutes I heard his voice yell for me.

“Chester Bennington, get your ass here, now.”

That’s how he found the drugs – whilst he was looking for the bay key in my bunk.

That is why he hates me right now. Or maybe it’s because when he asked me why I was doing this again, how I’d managed to slip; I yelled at him with lyrics from his own song. I don’t know how I got this way, I know it’s not alright.

I think he expects me to apologise, but I’m not going to. Because, basically, not sorry at all. He sneered at me this morning when I had a nose bleed; dark red blood dripped onto the white of my t-shirt, spreading like ink on blotting paper. He sneered at me and walked away.

We’ve stopped again for food. It’s dark and cold and I feel like shit. It was yesterday that he stopped speaking to me and his silence is really agitating me. I’ve already considered falling to my knees and begging, fucking begging for his forgiveness but instead I’ve chosen to have a cigarette. I lean against the cold metal of the bus and watch cars drive past us, their tail lights a bright red smudge in the gloom.

I hear him before he makes his presence known. “History is repeating itself.” I tell him solemnly, exhaling smoke through my nose and staring fixatedly at the scarlet of the wild poppies growing in the verge over the road to where we are standing. “All I need is for my dealer to rape me and I’ll be reliving me childhood.” I take one more drag before dropping my cigarette to the asphalt and crushing it with my heel. He stands beside me silently, following my line of sight. “This only started because I felt like shit, just so you know.”

“The drugs?” He asks, quietly.

I nod. “Yeah. The drugs. I felt like shit, remembered how could I felt when I took them so I got some more.”

“Just so you know,” He begins, “I wont speak to you as long as you’re taking it.”

I smile. “That’s the most incentive to quit I’ve ever had. You should do an anti-drugs campaign.” I frame the air with my hands, “Stay clean or Shinoda won’t love you.”

Giving an exasperated sigh he turns and points at me “Fuck you.” He says.

“Already tried it, remember? You ignored me for months.” I turn and smile sarcastically at him, “Sorry, Michael, that I’m not perfect.” I say and walk away.


End file.
